


Camping

by sparepartsandbrokenhearts



Category: Holby City
Genre: CampWolfe, Catherine Russell, F/F, Jemma Redgrave - Freeform, berena - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-07 19:30:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10367775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparepartsandbrokenhearts/pseuds/sparepartsandbrokenhearts
Summary: A short, fluffy camping fic whilst I await inspiration for the next one shot of the "Love & Affection" series. Bernie and Serena go camping in beautiful Yorkshire. Alas, Bernie is more at ease in the wilderness than Serena...





	1. Arriving

**Author's Note:**

> The campsite that inspired this fic is the lovely Clarion Lodge campsite and park, just down the road from me here in West Yorkshire - http://www.clarionlodgecampsite.co.uk/. The Cow & Calf pub will feature in the next chapter for sure. Take a look at this gorgeous country pub located just off Ilkley Moor - http://www.vintageinn.co.uk/restaurants/yorkshire/thecowandcalfilkley/gallery

"Oh... what delight!" grimaced Serena, as her Wellington boot landed squarely in the middle of a lump of cow dung.  She swung her other leg out of the hired Range Rover, making sure to avoid a second encounter with the smelly pile.  

"All part of the fun," said Bernie, her head ensconced in the boot as she rummaged through bags and rucksacks to locate the tent.  She pulled an assortment of metal poles and furled canvas coverings out first, throwing them roughly onto the grass beside the car.

"Ever the action woman, darling," said Serena, placing a light kiss to Bernie's cheek as she passed.  Bernie smiled; she was stoicism personified whilst in theatre, but any affection from Serena turned her instantly to mush. 

"The action has yet to truly begin..."

Serena smiled wickedly.  "Pray tell, Major?"

"First things first, the tent.  I was thinking you can unroll the canvases whilst I connect and insert the poles and check the tension.  Then we can focus on pegging the outer tent and sort out the inner bits once we're happy that the tent is sturdy. Once it's up, we can relax a bit more."

"Music to my ears.  I do hope I remembered the corkscrew..." 

"Well, actually, I was thinking we could kick things off with a walk before we tuck into the shiraz.  A leisurely ramble over Burley Woodhead, up to Ilkley Moor, and down to the Cow & Calf pub for a late lunch."

Serena narrowed her eyes.  "I rather had other kinds of action in mind.  How long is said walk?"

"Nothing too taxing.  Five or so miles," Bernie answered, producing an Ordnance Survey map from her back jeans pocket and thrusting it towards Serena.  Bernie had evidently taken quite some time to plan this walk, with scribbles about elevation and terrain written in the margins.

"Marvellous," said Serena, returning the map to Bernie and trying - failing - to drum up some enthusiasm.  Resigned to her fate, she turned to retrieve her waterproof from the car, when... SPLODGE.  Her other foot found the dung. 

 


	2. Walking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Hangingstones are absolutely stunning: http://www.visitbradford.com/thedms.aspx?dms=3&venue=2182686

Serena had walked less than a mile when she first fell over.  It was just after a mile and a half when her brand-new Regatta waterproof coat got snagged on a rogue piece of barbed wire.  It was at mile two when she was spooked by a rather aggressive ewe and her lambs, resulting in Bernie being called into action as a shield.

"They're just sheep, Serena.  This is silly."

"That bloody thing there keeps stamping its foot at me.  Look!"

Bernie stifled a giggle as Serena grasped her arms tighter.  Indeed the ewe was stamping her feet somewhat threateningly, but Bernie had come across enough sheep and goats - and IEDs - on the road in Afghanistan to know they were essentially harmless, as long as one kept moving.  With that thought in mind, she took Serena's hand and ensured a swift exit from this particular field.

They walked on through the lush heather, crossing stepping stones over stream gullies and onwards towards the Hangingstone Rocks, looming large in the distance.  Serena, though not the most ardent naturalist, was stunned by the beauty of the place, and she wondered to herself why she and Bernie did not take more trips of this sort. 

Bernie was in her element, clambering over stones and brush with little to no effort; Serena was both envious and turned on.  When Bernie leapt over a stile before turning to take her partner's hand to assist her, Serena's heart soared, and as she stepped down onto terra firma, she surprised Bernie with a lingering kiss.  As they pulled apart, she stroked Serena's cheek, as Serena tucked one of many stray blonde hairs behind Bernie's ear.

"What was that for?" Bernie asked.

Serena smiled.  "Do I need a reason?"

"No... I just thought, considering the... _mishaps_ you've experienced thus far, that perhaps you weren't having much fun."

"Darling, we could be climbing Everest in nothing but shorts and t-shirts, freezing our proverbials off, but as long as I'm with you, I couldn't care less."

Bernie beamed.  

"Now, where is this pub?"


	3. Relaxing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-lunch lazing in the late afternoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This pub is divine - http://www.vintageinn.co.uk/restaurants/yorkshire/thecowandcalfilkley
> 
> This song, mentioned below, is also divine and what I imagined in the background - https://youtu.be/tIrJK19dADI or https://open.spotify.com/track/4beWEVoUbjSziAFPy8voaF

The Cow & Calf pub was unseasonably quiet. Bernie and Serena lazed in two leather armchairs, sequestered in a corner of the pub, with only a roaring fire and each other for company. The bay windows in front of them opened onto a stunning view of the lower Dales rising in the distance, lush and green, stretching towards Bolton Abbey, Grassington, and beyond. Serena, brandy in hand, smiled sleepily, as the silky tones of Van Morrison's "Someone Like You" played gently in the background.

"That haddock was delish."

Bernie turned her liquor-tinged eyes to her partner.

"I had a crazy idea to pilfer some off your plate, but you were so happy eating it, I couldn't bear the thought."

"A sensible decision, darling."

Serena's little finger dangled over the armrest. Bernie reached out her left hand to grasp the digit, pulled the hand towards her lips, and planted a loving kiss. "I love you," she whispered.

"Exactly how many beers have you knocked back, darling?" asked Serena, chuckling.

"That was not the response I was hoping for, Miss Campbell," replies Bernie, feigning offence, "although I did lose count after I'd polished off the ale cake."

"Ah yes, blame the cake!"

"You could have helped me! Wasting good ale... perish the thought."

It was late afternoon and they had to depart soon if they were to make it back to the campsite before dark. Bernie, however, thought she could sit here like this forever, gazing at Serena's face cast in firelight and low sun, rested, sated, and utterly beautiful. 

"Come, Major, time is ticking on and we have a return five mile trek back to our digs. Goodie!"

"Oh. One more drink?" pleaded Bernie.

"And risk getting stuck out on the moor in the dark? With the SHEEP?"

"Good point."

Serena rose, hand never leaving Bernie's as she helped her up from the chair, always mindful of the old injuries that still plagued the Major occasionally. They left the Cow & Calf pub full of food, brandy, and beer, and a love for the cozy little place down underneath the Hangingstone Rocks. They bid adieu to the landlord and lady, promising to return again in the future.

As they passed over the threshold back into the cool air, Serena turned and placed a kiss to Bernie's cheek.

"I love you, too."


	4. Sleeping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serena can't sleep.

"Serena, I'm trying to sleep."

"I'm sorry, but it's hard to be quiet when we're packed in here like sardines."

The tossing and turning had been going on for at least two hours. Far from the luxury of her own king-size bed, Serena was not comfortable. Her feet were blocks of ice, her sleeping bag rustled with the slightest of movements, and the rain hammered hard against the canvas. Over the past year of their courtship, Bernie has mastered the art of being stealthily quiet in the bedroom, whether for boring reasons - such as getting up at 5am for a run - or for more lascivious reasons, like when Serena hits _that_ spot so perfectly that Bernie practically has to bite down on the pillow to restrain her moans. This is a skill Serena has singularly, purposefully, neglected to study. Ms Campbell, all heart-on-sleeve and shoot-from-the-hip, shouts, screams, yelps from the rafters when Bernie pushes _her_ buttons.

...and normally Bernie loves this. Loves Serena's candidness. Loves the sounds she emits when they make love. They fuel her, fill her up to the brim until her love - and lust - for Serena threatens to overspill. She has made it her life ambition to ensure Serena never stops these exquisite proclamations.

...except tonight.

Bernie unzipped her sleeping bag.

"Get in here," she demanded. 

"No, I'm fine."

"Serena..." Bernie replied, exasperated. She peeled her thick woollen socks from her warm feet and proceeded to throw them across the tent, where they landed next to Serena's face with a gentle thud. Serena opened an eye to see the offending object, a cheeky grin spreading across her face.

"But what about your feet?"

"I think they'll just about cope, y'know. Camp Bastion wasn't exactly five-star lodgings."

Serena realised just how pathetic she was being. Here she was, ensconced in the tent that Bernie had so lovingly constructed with minimal input from Serena, sleeping - or attempting to - under glorious Yorkshire night skies, wet though they were, lying next to her love. In just a couple of swift movements, she escaped from her sleeping bag and shimmied her way into Bernie's, spooned tightly against the Major, head nuzzled into her shoulder.

"Sorry for being a pain in the arse."

Bernie smiled.

"I don't mind. You're my pain in the arse."

Serena kissed Bernie's neck softly, before settling down, her hands clasped around Bernie's waist. When Bernie felt Serena's body soften against her and heard light snoring near her ear, she silently, stealthily removed a hand...

...and retrieved her ear plugs. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for being on this short, fluffy journey with me! Feel free to drop any prompts in my ask/message box at sparepartsandbrokenhearts.tumblr.com - I'm notoriously inconsistent with my fic writing, largely due to how busy my work week is, but I do promise to keep them all stored for inspiration. :)


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